


A Therapeutic Chain of Events

by VforVitaly



Series: The I.V. and Your Hospital Bed [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crying Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VforVitaly/pseuds/VforVitaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Danny's incident with the mistletoe - his near brush with death - Stiles decides it's time to tell Danny how he really feels, because he's terrified that he's going to lose yet another person that he cares about without them even knowing that he cares. He's lost so many people already, most of them not knowing how he really feels about them, and he's unwilling to let that happen again. Even though it's hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by myautumngalaxy on tumblr, so yeah! I'm actually really pleased with how this turned out.
> 
> [Title from Camisado by Panic! at the Disco]

            It’s not the first time that Danny’s woken up in the hospital to find Stiles in the room with him, but this time, he knows it’s not a dream. Stiles is the one asleep – curled up in the armchair in the room, his hoodie spread over him like a blanket, and Danny is pretty sure that it’s the first time he’s ever seen Stiles be still. He watches him for almost a full minute before deciding that he has to do something about this.

            “Stiles,” he says, starting off in a whisper, but he raises his voice a bit when Stiles doesn’t so much as flinch. “Stiles!”

            “Mmm, five more minutes,” Stiles mutters, shifting, but not opening his eyes.

            “No more minutes, wake up!” Danny hisses the words, but knows he shouldn’t get out of bed. What he’d had was a close call, and he doesn’t want any more of those. He’s almost died too many times in the last few years, he’s not eager for another close encounter.

            “Okay, fine!” Stiles sits up, forgetting where he is for a minute. “Oh…hey Danny.”

            “Why do you look surprised to see me?” Danny asks, confused. “This is _my_ hospital room. I’m the one that gets to be surprised.”

            “Oh, yeah…um…about that...” Stiles sighs, sitting up straight and pulling his hoodie back on the way it’s meant to be. “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

            “And it couldn’t wait until I was out of the hospital?” Danny asks, eyebrow raised.

            “No.” Stiles shakes his head. “It couldn’t.”

            “Okay…” Danny props himself up on pillows, looking over at Stiles, who looks like he hasn’t slept in days, which Danny knows isn’t true, because he just saw Stiles sleeping, though he doesn’t know for how long. “What’s up?”

            “Idon’twantyoutodie,” Stiles blurts out.

            “What?” Danny looks at him, confused.

            “I-I don’t want you to die,” Stiles says softly, looking down at the ground.

            “I didn’t, I’m not.”

            “I know, but this…” he sighs. “You almost died a couple days ago, and last year, in the club when you got, well drugged or whatever…” Stiles trails off, because he can’t say Kanima’d, that wouldn’t mean a damn thing to Danny. “I’m just sick of people in my life dying. I don’t want you to die.”

            Danny studies Stiles, the way the other young man is fidgeting in the chair, rubbing the underside of his left wrist with his right thumb, tapping his foot almost incessantly, and Danny can tell that Stiles is really worried about him.

            “Stiles, what’s really going on?” Danny asks softly.

            “I just…” Stiles looks up at him, still rubbing his wrist, eyes glistening. “I don’t deal with death well, and there’s been so much of it lately, and I don’t…I don’t want you to be next, I don’t want to watch another person that I care about fade away from me in a hospital bed, I…”

            As Stiles trails off again, a single tear rolling down his cheek, Danny realizes two things. First, that this isn’t totally about him, but about Stiles’ mother, and Heather, and Erica, and Boyd, and second, that Stiles cares about him. A lot.

            “Stiles…” Danny doesn’t know what to say. He suspects that whatever’s going on inside of Stiles has been a long time coming, and he doesn’t want to cheapen what Stiles is feeling by telling him it’s okay, when it very clearly isn’t, but is there any harm in telling him that it will be? “Stiles, it’s gonna be okay. _I’m_ gonna be okay.”

            “This time,” Stiles sniffles. “But…but what if there’s a next time? Danny, I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

            “I didn’t know you cared this much,” Danny says. Again, he’s not trying to cheapen what Stiles is feeling, he’s just not sure where it’s all coming from.

            “I do, I care, okay?” Stiles shifts, then shifts again – hell, about the only thing constant about his position is his hands – he’s still rubbing the underside of his wrist; it’s mesmerizing, really, and Danny can hardly take his eyes off of it, but he forces himself to, forces himself to Stiles in the eye.

            “Okay.” Danny nods. “Stiles, it’s okay that you care.”

            “No, Danny…” Stiles gulps. “I _care_.”

            “ _Oh_.” Danny is a lot of things, but he’s not thick, and when Stiles changes his inflections, Danny understands instantly what Stiles is saying, though it takes a minute to kick in.

            “I care a lot – too much, probably,” he mumbles. “And I was afraid that, you know, that you’d be gone, and I wouldn’t get to tell you, and I know what you’re going to say, because you’re a good guy – you’re going to tell me that I’m sweet, and that in a different place, in a different time, blah, blah, blah, but just don’t, okay?” Stiles looks at him, eyes full of something Danny isn’t quite sure he recognizes – some strange mix of passion and heartbreak, and in turn, Danny feels his own heart breaking, just a little. “Just tell me you’ll be more careful, okay?” Stiles whispers. “Tell me you won’t go looking into things you shouldn’t, and that you’ll just…just be safe, Danny.”

            “Okay.” Danny nods, because after that kind of confession, followed by that kind of request, there’s not really another way to go about speaking. “I’ll be careful.” It feels stupid, saying that to someone that he doesn’t know as well as maybe he should, but it’s also painfully obvious to him how much Stiles cares, and he doesn’t want to make things worse.

            “Okay.” Stiles shifts again, and stands, turning to leave, still rubbing his wrist.

            “Stiles?”

            “Yeah?” Stiles turns back around, facing Danny.

            “Come here.” Danny pats the hospital bed, right next to where he’s sitting, and Stiles goes over to him, sitting, but not saying anything. Slowly, carefully, Danny puts his arm around Stiles. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m not going to die, so try not to worry about me, okay?”

            Stiles just nods, sniffling, trying not to cry anymore, because he already feels stupid enough. He wants to be stronger than this, but it’s hard. He’s lost so many people in so little time, and now Boyd, and almost Danny in the same week, and it’s just…it’s a lot for a boy whose mother is dead, and whose father is in the line of fire every single day.

            “You can’t promise that,” Stiles whimpers, still massaging his wrist with the pad of his thumb.

            “That’s true,” Danny admits. “But I can promise to try, and I’m gonna do that, okay? For you.”

            “I…okay.” Stiles lets out a shaky breath, and his heart is racing, but at least he’s not crying anymore – well, not really. A single tear still makes its way down his cheek, but he figures it’s slowing, and that’s better than nothing. “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome.” Danny smiles kindly at him, hoping to calm him down, and Stiles just shifts in Danny’s arms, switching hands so he’s now massaging his right wrist with his left hand.

            “Why do you do that?” Danny asks.

            “Do what?”

            “The wrist thing.”

            “Oh.” Stiles stops, clasping his hands together, and folding them in his lap. “I…I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

            “I didn’t say you shouldn’t,” Danny says softly. “I asked why you did.”

            “I…it calms me down. I don’t know why, but it helps, you know, when I feel like I’m gonna start panicking. It helps to curb that. Maybe it’s a pulse thing, maybe it’s just soothing, I dunno, it just…it keeps me from losing it. Sometimes. Not always.”

            “Oh.” Danny nods, because that makes sense, and he reaches out, taking Stiles’ arm. Slowly, he starts to massage Stiles’ wrist with the pad of his own thumb, and Stiles looks up at him.

            “What are you doing?”

            “Soothing you,” Danny whispers. “You look worse than I do, and I almost died. You need rest.”

            “I have trouble sleeping,” Stiles admits.

            “I gathered. Close your eyes, Stiles. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

            “Okay.” Stiles, too tired to object, does as Danny says.

           He curls against him, and with Danny there, holding him, massaging his wrist, he dozes off. Once Danny’s sure that Stiles is asleep, he stops rubbing the boy’s wrist, and leans down, dropping a soft kiss to Stiles’ forehead before folding the smaller boy into his arms, closing his own eyes, thinking, as he drifts off, that it might be easier to learn to love this boy, who clearly cares for him so much, than he ever would have imagined.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, apparently this is now a three-parter, thanks to my internet crashing, and my brain being what it is.
> 
> Direct quotes taken from Henry Huggins by Beverly Cleary.

            When Danny wakes up, Stiles is gone, and Danny feels bad for not waking when Stiles did. He looks around briefly, to see if Stiles left a note, but there’s nothing, so he sighs and calls his nurse into the room.

            “The boy who was here?” he asks. “The one who stayed the night?”

            “Oh, your cousin?” she smiles at him. “Sweet kid. Left about an hour ago.”

            “Oh, yeah, my cousin.” He smiles to himself, because he’s touched that Stiles lied to be able to stay the night. Danny hadn’t even considered the fact that it was supposed to be family only after visiting hours, and Stiles had definitely been there after visiting hours. “He didn’t say where he was going, did he?”

            “No.” She shakes her head.

            “Oh, okay.” He nods.

            “But I do have some good news for you,” she says with a cheery smile. “You can go home today – just as soon as your family checks you out.”

            Danny thanks her and goes back into his room to pack his things. He’s honestly had enough of this hospital, and he just wants to go back home. His parents come to pick him up, and he climbs into the backseat, ignoring them talking about how glad they are that he’s alive. He tunes them out, looking out the window – he loves his parents, but right now, he doesn’t want to talk about how he almost died, he just wants some peace and quiet.

            “Pull over,” Danny says abruptly, about halfway home.

            “What is it? Sweetie, are you alright?” his mom asks as his dad does what he asks, pulling the car over to the side of the road.

            “Yeah, I just have something I have to do. You don’t have to wait for me, I can find my own way home.”

            “Daniel Akahele Haloa Mahealani, you just got out of the hospital, you are not going wandering around Beacon Hills, you are coming home to get some rest!” his father insists.

            “Dad, I’m fine, I’ve been resting for the last five days, I just have to do this, I’m sorry.” He gets out of the car and starts walking towards the cemetery.

            “What is that boy doing?” His father moves to get out of the car, to go after Danny, to bring him back, but Danny’s mom grabs his arm, shaking her head.

            “Let him go,” she says softly. “He’s not a child anymore. If he has something to do, let him do it.”

            Danny’s father nods, but watches as his son enters the cemetery, not at all sure of what he’s up to. He doesn’t notice – or rather, he doesn’t understand the significance, of the blue jeep parked right in front of them.

***

            Danny wanders through the cemetery, stopping several feet away when he sees Stiles. The young man is sitting on the ground right near a head stone, legs crossed, reading a book, and as Danny chances to move closer, he realizes that Stiles is reading the book out loud.

            “‘Henry had jars on his dresser. He had them on the table by his bed. He put jars on the floor all around the edge of his room. When he had one row of jars all the way around the floor, he started another row. ‘Goodness, Henry,’ his mother said, ‘pretty soon you won’t be able to walk in here.’ ‘If you keep all your guppies,’ said his father, ‘by the end of the year, you’ll have over a million fish in your bedroom!’’” Stiles reads, not noticing Danny’s presence as he inches closer, not wanting to disturb Stiles.

            Danny listens to Stiles reading the book. It’s a children’s book, he realizes – the kind you read to boys when they’re six or seven, too old for picture books, but not old enough yet for things like Harry Potter. From what Danny gathers, in this part, the boy – Henry, trades his millions of guppies to the pet shop owner for a cat fish and a happy ending.

            “‘‘Swell!’ said Henry. ‘That’s the kind of fish we want. Won’t mom be surprised!’’” It’s the end of the chapter, and Stiles closes the book, looking at the headstone. “I know you remember that,” Stiles says softly. “You read me that chapter, and all I wanted for weeks and weeks after was guppies so I could breed millions of them. I nagged and nagged, and finally, you and dad gave in and got me a catfish.” Stiles sniffles and reaches up, wiping his eyes, and Danny figures now might be a good time to interject. He doesn’t want to listen in on anything too personal, and a part of him wonders if he should go, and maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to.

            “Hey,” he says softly, and Stiles whips around, eyes wide.

            “Danny…wh-what are you doing here?” Stiles asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

            “I got released, I was driving home with my parents and I saw your car, I thought…” he trails off, because he’s not really sure _what_ he thought. “Just, after last night, maybe you’d want some company, but if you don’t, I understand, I know you’re talking to your mom, I don’t want to intrude, I just-”

            “Stay.” Stiles nods. “I mean, if you want.”

            “Okay.” Danny sits down on the ground next to him and picks up the book.

            “ _Henry Huggins_ ,” Stiles volunteers. “Did you ever read it?”

            “No.” Danny shakes his head.

            “Oh, you should. My mom used to read those books to me – all of them. _Henry Huggins, Henry and Ribsy, Henry and the Clubhouse, Henry and the Paper Route, Henry and Beezus_ …” he trails off, because he realizes that Danny has no idea what he’s talking about.

            “And now you’re reading it to her?”

            “Mhmm.” Stiles nods. “I read to her whenever I can, it’s sort of…it’s our thing, you know? It was our thing then, it’s our thing now…and she never finished the series, we were in the middle of the last one when she…” he trails off, his lower lip trembling, and Danny doesn’t have to be told that it’s high time to make a move.

            He reaches out, wrapping his arms around Stiles, pulling him close. Maybe Stiles was 12 when his mom died, and maybe that was five years ago, but it’s clear that he’s nowhere near being okay with it, and Danny doesn't think he should be.

            “I was reading it to her,” he whispers, his face half-buried in Danny’s chest. “In the hospital.”

            Danny doesn’t know what to say, because this whole story, Stiles’ life is so different from his own, and the young man is in so much pain over something that Danny can’t even begin to understand, so he reaches forward and picks up the book, opening it up to where Stiles left off.

            “‘Chapter Three,’” Danny begins. “‘Henry and the Night Crawlers.’” And he’s off, reading.

            Stiles wants to ask what Danny’s doing, _why_ Danny’s doing this, but he doesn’t want to interrupt it. He’s been hearing his own voice read these books for the last five years, and hearing someone else’s voice reading the words he’s become so familiar with is soothing in ways Stiles never expected. Slowly, he shifts, curling up on the ground, resting his head in Danny’s lap, because Danny’s showing no signs of stopping, and he lets out a shaky breath.

            Danny feels it, he feels everything, and he reaches out with one hand – still holding the book with the other – and takes Stiles’ wrist, gently massaging it with his thumb. Stiles closes his eyes and lets himself breathe in the calm of the situation. Danny’s voice is soothing, his actions are soothing, and Stiles knows that if his mom’s listening, if she’s watching, she approves of the choices that Stiles has made, because how can she not approve of Danny? Even if they’re nothing, even if they’re just friends, Danny is still here, he’s reading to Stiles, he’s reading to Stiles’ mom, to her memory, and he’s doing everything he can to keep Stiles calm. As Stiles drifts off to sleep, his head in Danny’s lap, his wrist in Danny's hand, he knows he’s not wrong to have fallen for Danny. 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...now it's four parts, but I promise that's it!

            When Stiles wakes up, Danny’s gone, and it’s starting to get dark out. He gathers up his book, which Danny has marked for him, and says goodbye to his mother before climbing into his jeep to drive home. He doesn’t know where Danny’s gone – probably home to recover from almost dying, and a part of Stiles wonders if the whole thing, Danny showing up at the cemetery, was just something he dreamed up, something that he _wanted_ to happen so much that he conjured it up in his mind.

            The drive seems longer than usual, and when Stiles pulls up in front of his house, his dad’s car is still gone, meaning that he’s on his own for dinner. He’s on his own a lot these days, what with his father working overtime trying to figure out why the hell people keep dying, and what’s killing them, and he wants to be upset about it, but he knows his dad is doing his job, and he doesn’t want to be “that guy” who thinks that his father spending time with him is more important than saving lives.

            Still, he lets out a sigh as he locks his car and walks up the steps to the door. He stops short, though, because there, resting on his front porch, in a fish bowl, is a pair of guppies, a box of fish food, and a note that reads: **Guppy breeding starter pack.** It’s not much, but Stiles knows where it came from, and he walks inside, carrying his little bowl of guppies as though they’re the most precious thing in the world. He sets them down on the counter, and is about halfway through making dinner when he realizes he should probably call Danny and thank him.

            “Hello?” Danny picks up on the second ring, and Stiles isn’t really sure how to start the conversation.

            “Thanks for the guppies,” he says, figuring that starting out with the very reason he called might be the best course of action.

            “You’re welcome.” Danny smiles, glad that Stiles got the gift, and not a cat – he knew that leaving them on the porch was risky, but he didn't know what else to do with them, after all, they had sort of been an impulse buy. Sort of.

            There’s silence on the line after that, because Stiles isn’t really sure what to say next, and Danny keeps waiting for him to say something…not that he’d know what to say either, if he thought it were his turn to talk.

            “Stiles?” Danny asks finally. “Are you still there?”

            “Can I come over?” The words tumble from Stiles’ mouth before he’s really even gotten a chance to think them through, and he gulps, wondering if he's just overstepped some huge boundary.

            Danny knows that he should probably say no. He knows that things are weird between him and Stiles, but maybe weirdly good, and he knows that his parents won’t love that he has visitors when he should be resting, especially since he spent all day sitting in the cemetery and not his room, then insisted on going to the pet store, and still hasn't explained that one to them yet. They’re confused enough already, but Stiles sounds like he needs someone, and Danny’s managed to figure out in a very short amount of time how to be the somebody that Stiles needs. He doesn't want to let him down.

            “Yeah, of course you can.” Danny nods.

            “Thanks.” Stiles hangs up and gets in his jeep, practically speeding to Danny’s house. When he gets there, he raises his fist to knock, but before he makes contact with the door, it opens, and Danny’s standing there, looking fucking amazing in flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt that clings to his body just right.

            “Are you okay?” Danny asks instantly. “You sounded kind of…off. You know, on the phone.”

            “I don’t…I don’t know,” Stiles admits. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” he is painfully aware of Danny’s mom and dad on the couch, and Danny nods, turning and walking towards his room, Stiles behind him.

            When they get to the room, Danny closes the door and sits down on the bed, gesturing for Stiles to join him. Stiles does, and this time, Danny doesn’t wait for Stiles to start tearing up before he puts his arms around him.   

            “Talk to me,” Danny whispers, cradling Stiles in his arms.

            It’s weird for Danny, seeing Stiles so vulnerable, because to him, Stiles has always been some sort of impenetrable force, so much stronger than he looks, but now, it’s like everything that’s been happening is taking its toll, and he doesn’t have anywhere to go, or anyone to lean on.

            “I’m just so scared,” Stiles whispers. “It’s getting bad, this world, everything…first my mom, and she was just the start of it. Everyone’s dying, everyone’s getting hurt, and my dad…it’s gotten to the point where every time he goes to work I’m afraid it’s the last time I’m ever gonna see him, but I can’t ask him not to go because it’s his job to stop all of this, and I know he cares. He’s a great sheriff, but he’s also a great dad, and I don’t want to lose him, and then there’s Scott, and he’s always getting himself into trouble lately, and I can’t…I can’t protect either of them, and then…there’s you, and-”

            “Stiles,” Danny cuts him off, taking both of Stiles’ wrist, gently rubbing them with his thumbs. “Breathe, let me hear you breathe.”

            “I-I can’t,” Stiles chokes out. His chest his tight, his breath is shaky, his skin feels clammy, and too warm, and he knows what’s happening, but it seems that Danny does too.

            “Yes, you can.” Danny encourages him, his voice even, soft, soothing. “Breathe with me, okay? In. Out. In. Out.” He rubs steady circles on Stiles’ wrists as he breathes, deep breaths, holding them for just a second before letting them out. “Come on,” he whispers. “Just let me hear you breathe.”

            Stiles takes a deep breath, then another and another, and with Danny’s soothing words, counting his breaths – in and out, in and out, he manages to regulate his breathing, and his heart rate, and he pushes his body against Danny’s, afraid to be apart from him, afraid that the panic attack will come back if any part of them isn’t touching.

            “It’s not your job to protect us, Stiles,” Danny whispers. “It’s not your job to make sure we stay alive, it’s your job to keep yourself alive, okay?”         

            Stiles nods, but Danny’s not sure that Stiles totally understands, so he turns Stiles around, still holding him by the wrists, though he’s not massaging them anymore. They’re face to face now, and Danny’s deep, dark, brown eyes find Stiles’ slightly lighter, honey-colored ones.

            “You’re wearing yourself out, Stiles, I can see it, but don’t do that, okay? You’re worried about your dad, about Scott, about me, but don’t you think we might be worried about you just as much?”

            “I’m just…I’m not good with death,” Stiles mumbles.

            “Stiles, no one’s good with death. Anyone who seems like they are is just putting up a front, and it’s okay to be freaked out about it, but you can’t let it rule you.”

            “I’m trying, I really am, I just feel like…like I’m in this alone, and I know it’s not on me to make it all okay, but I just feel responsible.”

            “You’re not, Stiles,” Danny says softly. “You’re not.”

            “I’m so tired.” The tears are back in Stiles’ eyes, but more because he’s exhausted than anything else. “I’m so, so fucking tired.”

            “I know.” Danny nods. He lets go of Stiles’ wrists and pulls him into a bear hug, lying down on the bed, taking Stiles with him. He reaches across to the bedside table and turns out the light.

            “What are you doing?” Stiles asks.

            “Getting some sleep,” Danny whispers. “We both are.”

            “Oh.” Stiles doesn’t question it any further, because if he does, he might talk one, or both, of them out of it, and he doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he kicks his shoes off and lets Danny be the big spoon.

            As they drift off to sleep, they think about how glad they both are to have a warm body pressed against their own.


	4. Epilogue

            When Danny wakes up the next morning, Stiles is still asleep in his arms, and Danny doesn’t move, for fear of waking him. Instead, he watches Stiles’ chest gently rise and fall, his arms still wrapped around him, though loosely now. Stiles is curled into a ball, his knees up close to where Danny’s hands are clasped around Stiles, but he’s not flailing, or screaming, or panicking, the way Danny has come to believe Stiles spends a lot of sleepless nights.

            He isn’t sure how long he watches him, but the sun is rising higher in the sky, and as it gets brighter in the room, Stiles starts to shift. Before the sun can wake him, though, Danny leans in, nuzzling Stiles’ neck.

            “Mmm, five more minutes,” Stiles whines, and this time, Danny just smiles to himself, deciding to let Stiles have five more minutes, but just five, and exactly 300 seconds later, he gently nuzzles Stiles’ neck again. “What are you doing?” Stiles asks, opening one eye, then the other as he turns to face Danny.

            “Falling in love with you,” Danny whispers. He reaches out, putting one hand on Stiles’ cheek, gently caressing his skin. “Is that alright with you?”

            Stiles, still half asleep, isn’t sure if he’s actually awake, or if this is some sort of dream. He’s dreamt about Danny before, and the past few days, he’s spent feeling as though he’s existing somewhere between real life and a dream state, but this? This can’t be a dream. His dreams are nothing like this, not anymore. They’re riddled with pain and suffering and blood, and this? This is calm, and sweet, and cozy in every possible sense of the word.

            “Mhmm.” Stiles nods. “That’s fine with me, but I didn’t think you liked me. When I told you in the hospital that I cared, you didn’t say anything.”

            “That’s because you didn’t _let_ me say anything,” Danny points out. His voice is still gravelly with sleep, and Stiles thinks it might be one of the sexiest things he’s ever heard.

            “I didn’t?” Stiles, honestly, doesn’t remember every detail of the past couple days, all he knows is he’s now slept in Danny’s arms three times in two days, and he likes that ratio. A lot.           

            “No.” Danny shakes his head. “You told me what you thought I was going to say, and then made me promise to be safe.”

            “Oh.” Stiles bites his lip. “I’m sorry, sometimes…sometimes I have trouble letting other people talk, especially when I’m afraid that what they'd say might hurt me.”

            “I don’t want to hurt you.” Danny shakes his head. “I don’t ever want to do that.”

            “I mean, I didn’t think that you _wanted_ to hurt me, but that never means that it isn’t going to happen anyways, I mean, I didn’t let you speak, I wrote your rejection speech for you so that I could be in control, so that I wouldn’t have to hear a more painful one from you, and-”

            “And you didn’t even know if I was going to reject you at all,” Danny finishes for him, even though he’s pretty sure that wasn’t where Stiles was going.

            “Well, I thought I knew,” Stiles admits, his cheeks flushing pink.

            “But I’m not,” Danny whispers. “I’m not rejecting you.”

            Stiles looks into Danny’s eyes, his heart beating so loud he’s sure that Danny must be able to hear it. He’s put himself out there, and for the first time, the person he’s showing all his cards to isn’t pushing him away, but pulling him closer…and closer, until they’re so close that Stiles can feel Danny’s breath on his lips.

            “Danny, I-”

            “It’s okay.” Danny uses the hand that’s resting on Stiles’ cheek to pull him closer, kissing him, just once, just for a few seconds, softly on the lips.

            “Wow.” Stiles breathes out the single word as they pull away, and Danny smiles, dimples and all.

            Stiles isn’t sure if he’s awake, or if he’s dreaming, but either way, he doesn’t want to let this moment go to waste. He leans back in, closing his eyes and capturing Danny’s lips again, kissing him, deeper this time, his hands gripping Danny’s shirt, whole fistfuls of the white fabric, as though he’s scared that if he lets go, all of this will disappear.

            Everything snaps back to reality with a sharp knock on the door, but when Stiles opens his eyes, looking towards it, Danny’s still there, and they’re still so close that they can feel each other’s breath, and Stiles _knows_ it's not a dream.

            “Danny? Are you up?” his mother calls. “Breakfast is almost ready – your father made strata.”

            “Um, okay!” Danny calls.

            “There’s plenty for your friend, if he’s still here!” She adds.

            “Great mom, thanks! Just give me – us, five more minutes.”

            “Okay, honey.”

            Both boys are silent as they listen to Danny’s mom walk away, and Stiles turns to Danny, smiling at him.

            “Five more minutes?” he says, a real, honest to god smile on his face.

            “Five more minutes.” Danny nods and leans in, kissing Stiles again – soft, but passionate, hoping that through his kiss, Stiles can feel everything that Danny truly feels for him. In the kiss exists everything that neither of them know how to say yet, at least not with words, but sometimes words aren’t the best way to convey how you feel, and in this moment, Stiles and Danny are both incredibly, blissfully, aware of that.

 

The End. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this marks the end of this story, BUT there is a sequel coming titled A Regular Decorated Emergency.


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